Page 24 of Bruised

I glance down, gulping at the sight of his cock underneath me. It gives a twitch—a tiny movement that shouldn’t be scary, but with a cock like that, I can’t think of anything more intimidating.

Well, maybe the man it’s attached to.

He keeps rubbing my nipples, gentler now, as my heartbeat returns to normal. “Did that feel good, puppy?”

I nod, at a loss for words and unwilling to admit it out loud.

“Want to make me feel good, too?”

I stare at him, trying not to look so nervous, but I’m not succeeding very well. When I make no moves to follow his not-so-subtle suggestion, there’s no change to his pleased expression—if anything, his smirk turns even more smug.

“Maybe tomorrow.” He strokes my thighs with the palms of his hands, fingers tugging playfully at the hem of my boxers. “Maybe tomorrow, you’ll let me see you, too, hmm?”

Let me see you. He means… he wants my underwear off? Skin-to-skin? My cheeks grow flaming hot, and I climb off him as soon as I’ve gathered the strength.

I wrestle my shirt back on, legs shaking and thigh muscles aching. I bet I’ll be sore tomorrow. Yet another thing I’ll need to hide from Oliver.

Sighing, I go to open the door, and as I grip the handle, Mason speaks quietly behind me.

“Sweet dreams, puppy.”

Back in Oliver’s room, I fall asleep like a rock, but my dreams aren’t very sweet. They’re full of rough hands, pleasure laced with pain, and the dangerous, spine-tingling promise of tomorrow.

10. NOTHING IF NOT GREEDY

Lane’s scent lingers on my sheets the next morning. Predictably, it makes me hard, just like everything about him makes me hard, especially now after two nights of bare-knuckled self-restraint and resulting blue balls.

I inhale, his scent flooding my nose. My hands clench as I remember the way he rubbed himself off in my lap and how his eyes grew half-lidded with bliss as he came. Fuck, he’s just delicious. And I haven’t even tasted him yet.

Grunting, I ignore my erection and get my gym shorts on. I’d better keep myself distracted during the day if I want the night to arrive quicker. Keeping Lane on edge is part of the fun, but I also can’t wait to be more than an observer in our nightly trysts.

I have to be careful not to spook him, though. It took a lot of careful consideration to even get him to take his shirt off, and I suspect getting him totally stripped down and bare will follow a similar pattern.

That’s fine. I can be patient. I’m in control. Waiting just makes the reward all the sweeter.

I follow my usual routine for upper body day: back, shoulders, and abs. I use an app to keep track of my progress, and in the short amount of time since I got back home, I’ve broken numerous PRs. Prison made it pretty hard to keep track, and besides, shit got depressing in there. With a broken spirit, it’s hard to even move.

Prison didn’t break me fully, though. It got bad sometimes, but I managed to pick myself back up, knowing I was only stuck there for a couple more months, while some of my cellmates were far worse off. Most didn’t have a wealthy family to rely on, that’s for sure. I should be grateful, and I am. It’s just hard to know that my life as I knew it is over. My sentence will forever be a stain I can’t scrub away.

After a shower and a swim, I sit hunched over the kitchen table as I apply for jobs. Like I told Tess, I don’t have very many credentials. A little over a year of bartending, and then an almost two-year gap where I fucked off to prison. Not exactly an ideal candidate.

By sundown, I’m plagued by an antsy restlessness that crawls into my very bones. I’ve already worked out today, and I’m pretty sore, so I settle for painting my Transformers by my desk. It’s a tedious sort of fun to pick out the colors and get all the intricate details right. At least it holds my attention for an hour or so before I give up and crash on the bed.

I glance at my phone. Nine. Hours yet before it’s bedtime for Oliver and playtime for me and Lane.

I could jerk off, but I want to save it for tonight, even though there’s plenty to go around. Besides, I’m pretty tired. My eyelids grow heavy, and as I sink into the mattress, I think about Lane’s soft skin, the desire burning behind his big brown eyes, and the heady pressure of his weight in my lap.

I jerk awake to the sound of my door opening. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.

Lane’s in my room, his soft steps approaching me shyly. “Oh. Were you sleeping?”

Even though I obviously was, I reply, “No,” and rub my face. I feel disoriented and drowsy, like you tend to after a long, unplanned nap, but my body wakes up quickly at the anticipation of what’s to come.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all day, and I’m not about to turn him down just because I’m a little tired.

“Maybe I should leave,” Lane says, frowning as he turns around.

“No. Come here, puppy.”